Excerpt from Her Favorite Honeymoon A flurry of activity at the front door caught Amy's attention. A tall man with a thick mane of dark hair had gotten on. After joking with the stewardess, he ambled down the aisle, scanning the numbers above the rows. With a convulsive gulp, the chocolate slid down her throat. Her sister Caitlin would call this guy a “hottie.” With his broad brow, tousled hair and smoldering eyes, the newcomer was a combination of Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights and Edward in Jane Eyre. Amy had taught both novels, knowing full well that she’d never meet a man like this. If ever there was proof of life, this man was it. When his eyes swept her way, Amy dropped her gaze and unzipped her windbreaker. Since her concentration was zero, she jammed the magazine back into the seat pocket. Mallory might be right behind this latecomer, who held a carryon in front of him with long capable fingers. Nice hands. Jason’s hands had been compact and efficient, good with a football or umpire’s whistle. That was about it. He never liked to hold hands. Amy popped the last square of chocolate into her mouth, tearing up as locker room memories raced through her mind like mental paper cuts. But she was here to forget about Jason. Humming under his breath, the dark-haired stranger stopped at her aisle. She heard the notes of what sounded like “Arrivederci Roma.” Amy had borrowed Dean Martin’s Italian CD from her mother and had been playing it since she began planning this darned honeymoon. Good grief. The newcomer’s spicy scent made her think of exciting places she’d always wanted to visit. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for him—and her wandering thoughts—to pass. “Miss, I just do wonder, could you by any chance be Amy?” Her eyes flew open. “Yes.” She gripped her knees with both hands. Had Mallory sent a friend, a guy-for-gods-sake, without consulting her? “Pleased to meet you, Amy. I’m Mallory.” His head dipped politely. She shot to the edge of her seat. “But you’re a man!” Towering over her, Mallory angled his carryon into the overhead compartment. “Well, yes, I am.” Only, it sounded like “Ah-am.” He shrugged out of a navy sport coat and folded it, tucking it into the bin overhead. She could barely breathe. How could this be? The slight lift of his brows indicated that she was blowing this way out of proportion.Hunching forward, Amy struggled out of her windbreaker. “How could you be a man?” “Trust me, it comes naturally.” His breath was warm on her cheek as Mallory—a male Mallory, apparently—helped her with her jacket. Bunching it up in a ball, Amy clasped it to her chest. Sinking into the seat next to her, he snapped the seatbelt closed. “There’s been a terrible mistake.” She could barely get the words out. “Now, dearie, it will be all right.” Setting her paperback aside, the woman next to the window patted Amy’s hand with a knowing smile. “Men. But everything works out in the end.” Not in my world. Amy’s head swiveled between the woman and Mallory. How could she continue with this trip-of-a-lifetime to the Italian Riviera, Florence and Venice…with this Mallory? She’d pictured chatting it up in the evening with a woman. They’d discuss art, literature and the great Italian food. Maybe they've even confide in each other about men, the rotten kind. What had she missed in the few emails she’d sent Mallory through Travel Chums? Lord knows, she’d been a hot mess. Had she checked male instead of female when she signed up? Her mind was revving up faster than the engines. No matter how Mallory angled his body, his legs bumped the seat in front of him. Broad shoulders expanded, and he flipped up the armrest between them. Amy shrank into herself.An attractive stewardess edged down the aisle, checking to make sure all carry-on baggage was stowed away. Leaning forward, Mallory directed his blue eyes to the tall brunette. “Now, when do you think that drink cart will be making the rounds? I am as thirsty as a June bug in July. Yes Ma’am, I most certainly am.” His words had that soft southern drawl, apparently the kind women liked. The attendant drew closer. “I’ll see what I can do, sir.” Then she nodded at Amy. “Anything for you, miss?” Her tone had leveled. Amy massaged her forehead with one hand. “Do you have any aspirin?” Available on: Amazon: http://amzn.to/1FXEteH